Bewitched
by Arid Tundra
Summary: AU, non-related slash SamDean. "He had been forced to wear a costume that his mother had given him, all bubbly happy and telling him how it had been her favorite Halloween costume as a girl." Sam and Dean meet at a costume party. Slashy stuff ensues.


**DISCLAIMER:**I don't own Supernatural

A/N: Well, I managed to finish this along with my English assignment tonight. Yay! Edited quickly so it might be a bit crap - I won't know unless you review!!

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Why on earth had he gone along with this?

Oh yeah, his mother had threatened to cancel his high-quality broadband internet connection and/or take away his Playstation. He'd long ago come to the conclusion that his mother was completely insane.

He really regretted his decision now. Maybe losing his internet (or being forced to pay for it himself) would be better than being dragged along to some costume party that a cousin of his was holding. His mother, despite being almost fifty, seemed to think that it would be perfectly fine for her to go to this party. This party held by his twenty three year old cousin.

He should have just gotten a job and paid the internet bills himself.

It wasn't the fact that it was a costume party, per se, or the fact that he was probably the only person in the room who couldn't drink (he was sixteen.) It wasn't even the fact that his mother was sure to embarrass him with her horrible and very enthusiastic dancing. No, it was the fact that he had to wear a costume that his mother had given him, all bubbly happy and telling him how it had been her favorite Halloween costume as a girl.

It was a witch's costume: black cape, pointy black hat, _black dress._ A dress! He had to be adopted. He just had to, because the fact that he had half her genes really, really got him down sometimes. Like right now, when he was hidden in someone's bedroom, surrounded by posters of hot guys (that bit wasn't _too _bad, he supposed) as he leaned against the side of a bed covered in a purple duvet. He had on a dress and a pointy hat, and was hiding like the coward he was in the girliest room he'd ever seen.

It might possibly have been the most pathetic he'd ever felt.

He heaved sigh and leant further into the bed as he pulled the brim of his hat down, over his eyes. To top it all off, he was experiencing the pulsing agony of a bad headache. How on earth did his life suck _this_ bad?

He was sure his mother would take him home if he told her – she wasn't a mean or (very) selfish person, just really strange and quite ditzy – but the thought of venturing out into that churning mass of sweaty bodies and pounding music made more pain lance through his skull.

Groaning quietly, he pushed himself to his feet and then collapsed on the bed. The only way to deal with a headache so bad, besides taking pain medication, was to sleep it off. He pulled the hat down even further until his eyes were covered – it gave him an irrational sense of comfort – and gave one fleeting silent apology to the person whose room this was before promptly dropping off to sleep.

--

He had no idea why he had been invited to this party.

Well, you know, except for the fact that he was the hottest thing on two legs and was in his element at times like these. Normally, anyway. But for some strange reason, Dean never really felt like partying on the anniversary of his mothers' death, even if the place was full of some pretty hot people. Hooking up with someone on a night like this just felt dirty – as though he was tainting his mothers' memory in some way.

Suppressing a forlorn sigh – emo he was not – he took another gulp of punch and threw a faux grin to the chick who had been nattering at him for the past twenty minutes. He felt faint amusement when she paused in her spiel, blushing at the smile, before pushing on again. He had been forced by a friend of his (and maybe friend was too strong a word) to come to this stupid thing. Luke seemed to be under the impression that what he needed on this date was to party (and fuck) so hard that he'd pass out with a smile on his face and never once think morbid thoughts about how his mom had burned alive in a house fire, and how he had heard the tortured screams from his place outside on the lawn next to his grey-faced father.

Mary had told John to save Dean – and ever since, Dean had been certain that John regretted it, that he resented Dean being alive in the place of his wife.

So much for that 'no bad thoughts' thing.

All of a sudden the alcohol-filled punch tasted like ash in his mouth, and he spat it back in the plastic cup with a grimace. Muttering some piss-poor excuse to the (still talking) girl, he turned and headed for the stairs. Once he was up on the second floor he opened each door until he found one that no-one was having sex in, and then he shut it behind him and leaned back against it the cool wood, heaving a sigh of relief. The atmosphere of the party had become too claustrophobic – a break was greatly needed.

For a while he just stood there, letting muscles relax, allowing himself to put his guard down. It was only when he heard the shifting on fabric that he realized the room was occupied. Only just restraining himself from groaning out loud with the embarrassment that being caught so unguarded caused him, he opened his eyes with trepidation.

For a moment he didn't see anyone – and then he spotted the person lying on the bed, back facing the door. The person – probably a girl if he judged by the room itself – seemed to be draped in a black cape, a pointy black hat perched on her head. Obviously she was an invitee. Dean himself wasn't wearing a costume, despite knowing how hot he was when dressed up as Indiana Jones. He had told Luke he would only go if he didn't have to dress up like an idiot. A hot idiot, but an idiot none the less.

He crept around to the other side of the bed, wanting to find out who this girl was. Hell, he was bored, and this was the only room that was peaceful. He was pretty sure that the girl was sleeping and wouldn't give him any trouble, but he wanted to be certain. It was when he got a good view of the person's front that his eyes widened, a laugh bubbling in his throat. This person, lying in a purple bedroom and dressed up as a witch, was a guy.

He ran his eyes up the – very long and admittedly pretty hot – tanned legs, past the short black dress (and at that thought he chuckled quietly) and then his eyes fell on the guys face around the same time that his mouth fell open also. In short, the kid was absolutely adorable. His face was slack with sleep, his mouth half open, the tiniest bit of drool staining the purple duvet. High cheekbones were coloured with a sleepy flush, and one curled fist lay close to his chin like a paw. The childish hat perched on his head just added to his unbearable cuteness. Reaching out mindlessly, rapt by the boys beauty, he softly brushed away the shaggy brunette locks that had flopped over one eye, fingers brushing against the warmth of his blushing cheek. At the gentle touch the guys' mouth twitched upwards in a contented smile, and Dean bit his lip at the flash of dimples. He hardly looked the type to come to a party like this – too young, too innocent, and probably unaware of how alluring he was, considering the fact that he had allowed himself to fall into such a deep sleep in a stranger's house, a stranger's house full of drunken people who would love to take advantage of a boy so pretty.

Who _was_ this kid?

He felt a moment of guilt as his dick perked up, hardening and pressing against the zipper of his jeans. It was pretty rich of him to talk about people wanting to take advantage of the kid, when apparently he was also willing and eager to do exactly the same thing.

He barely resisted letting out a groan. He couldn't leave – that had been another condition of him and Luke's deal. No matter how bad he wanted to he couldn't really molest an innocent kid while he was sleeping, and if he stayed in this room any longer he wouldn't be able to restrain himself from doing so. He had a choice between staying here and going slowly insane from need, staying here and waking the kid up (and seeing if maybe they could get some mutual molestation going on), or going back to the party and having to yet again be bored out of his mind by that girl who just wouldn't shut up.

Option B it was.

"Hey," he said softly, bending down slightly so he was more level with the slumbering boy. The kid shifted, frowning as his nose wrinkled adorably. Dean resisted the urge to make 'aww' noises. "Kid," a bit louder that time, and he was rewarded with an intelligible mutter and a fluttering of eyelashes. "Yeah, that's it… wake up, okay?"

Slowly eyelids rose, revealing slanted hazel eyes that had a distinctly feline look to them. Dean couldn't decide whether he was more like a kitten or a puppy; either way, he was most definitely very, very cute. Seemingly unsure of his surroundings and only half-awake, the kid blinked slowly, shifting his leg a bit. Dean swallowed when the dress rode up to reveal the leg of a pair of white boxer-briefs, his cock swelling and pressing urgently against his zipper.

It took the kid a little while to notice that he wasn't alone, and when he spotted Dean he bolted upright, pulling his cape closer around him to hide the dress. Trying not to pout, Dean held his hands out to placate the kid, show him that he wasn't in any danger. "Hey, I'm Dean. I came up here to find some peace and quiet, and this was the only room where no-one was doing the horizontal mambo." He grinned as a blush came to the kids cheeks at the phrase. "So what are you doing here anyway?"

"Um, hiding," he gave a sheepish smile, flashing those dimples again. It made him look almost unbearably sweet, and why on earth did Dean keep thinking about how cute the kid was all the time? He was adorable, period. No need to keep thinking about it, right? "My mom dragged me here, and, uh, she made me wear an old Halloween costume of hers 'cause that was the only thing we had." He ducked his head shyly, bangs falling forward and obscuring his face. Unthinking, Dean reached forward and brushed the locks aside, grinning into wide eyes. It turned into more of a leer when the kids' cheeks were coloured even darker as he blushed again.

"I know what you mean. My friend made me come here, but at least I got out of wearing a costume." There was definitely a leer on his face now. "Don't worry too much; you look damn good in a dress." Chuckling when Sam spluttered, mouth falling open as his whole face turned red, Dean tucked his bangs behind his ears. "What's your name?"

"S-Sam," the kid stuttered, gaze mostly startled, but he could see some fear and – and was that arousal? _Yes!_

"So, Sam…" Dean saw Sam's Adams apple bob as he swallowed, "how old are you?"

"S-Sixteen. What, um, w-why do you wanna know?" Oh, the kid definitely knew that Dean was flirting with him now, the excitement and nervousness clear in his eyes. For a moment Dean gave himself a mental pat on the back. He was good, very good.

"You a virgin, Sammy-boy?" Dean lowered himself until he was kneeling on the bed, leaning over Sam as the kid stared up at him, frozen.

"Y-y-yes," he stuttered out, squeaking when their noses brushed together, hiding his eyes behind his bangs again.

"Huh," Dean said thoughtfully. "Maybe we shouldn't do this just yet then." Sam peered up at him through dark locks, the relief clear in his eyes. "Don't worry though," and at this Dean gave a wolfish smile, "I'm willing to wait. Are you?" He laughed at Sam's eager nod, one hand straying up to stroke the dimple in his cheek when he grinned shyly. "I'm sure you've been kissed before though…"

And with that he leant forward, both hands buried in Sam's hair as he guided his head to the side. The first kiss was light, just a touch of lips, and then Dean leaned back slightly to see Sam's reaction. The kids' eyes were half closed, expression dreamy, so Dean licked his lips and captured Sam's again. After a while of just lips moving together, parting to take breaths and then moving back together again, Dean coaxed Sam's lips open, slipping his tongue inside. At the rough slide of tongue against tongue Sam gave a moan, arms straying up to wrap around Dean's neck. The kiss swiftly got dirty as they licked frantically into each others mouths as though they were swiftly approaching some sort of deadline. Sam gave a whimper when Dean pulled back slightly and sucked on his tongue, which drew an answering groan from the older man. Finally they ran out of air, and Dean gave one final nip to Sam's bottom lip before they parted.

The kid was achingly tempting with a flush of arousal painting his cheeks, lips swollen and bruised from kissing. Dean couldn't help but give a groan when he saw a dark red indentation from his own teeth in Sam's plump bottom lip. It was like a brand, like he had scrawled _Dean Winchester was here_ on Sam's naked body. God, if only. Feeling the need to mark, claim, he dropped his head into the hollow of Sam's neck, licking the skin there and grinning at Sam's shivers before nipping and biting, sucking on the newly reddened skin to create a luscious purple bruise. Spurred on by Sam's breathy whines, he spent a long minute there before leaning back and admiring his handiwork.

There was just one more thing to do. Pressing a soft kiss to the side of Sam's neck, he leaned back and reached into his pocket. Beside the condom and the small tube of lube was a black marker (yes, he always came prepared for every eventuality.) Lifting the kids arm up, he took Sam's hand in his, nipping at the soft skin of his wrist before scrawling his name and cell number on Sam's arm, the boy giggling at the ticklish feeling of the marker on his skin.

"God, do you know how adorable you are?" Dean groaned after he was finished, bestowing a fond look on the kid. Sam blinked at him with wide eyes, before he grinned happily.

"You think I'm adorable?"

"Don't fish for compliments," Dean faux-reprimanded, leaning forward to swirl his tongue in Sam's dimple. At the boys squeak he leaned back and gave him a blinding grin.

Maybe being forced to come to this party hadn't been such a bad thing after all.


End file.
